CHAPTER TWO — THE MARK SHE REMEMBERED

By evening, Anna had inspected every basket in the food room.

Most of the apples were normal.

Only one basket had changed.

The oldest basket.

The one at the bottom.

Their father listened silently as Anna explained what she had found.

Thomas picked up one of the dark slices.

He examined it carefully.

“Could be mold.”

“It isn’t ordinary mold,” Anna said.

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ve seen it before.”

Thomas looked at her.

“You’re talking about your grandmother.”

Anna nodded.

Helen immediately became uneasy.

“Don’t bring that up.”

“But Mother—”

“I said don’t.”

The room fell silent.

Anna looked from her mother to her father.

“You both remember what happened.”

Thomas placed the apple slice on the table.

“Your grandmother was sick. That doesn’t mean these apples caused it.”

“Then why did you throw away every basket after she died?”

Thomas didn’t answer.

Anna had never asked that question before.

Now she wished she had.

Daniel leaned forward.

“What exactly happened back then?”

Helen’s face became pale.

“It was a bad winter.”

“That’s not what Anna means,” Daniel said.

Helen looked toward the window.

“Your grandmother believed the apples were making people sick.”

Anna stared at her.

“She did?”

“Yes.”

“What did she discover?”

Helen remained silent.

Thomas finally spoke.

“She found a black mark on the bottom of one of the baskets.”

Anna’s stomach tightened.

“What kind of mark?”

Thomas looked at her.

“Three small black lines.”

Anna immediately returned to the food room.

She dragged the basket into the light.

Then she turned it over.

On the wooden bottom were three thin black marks.

Exactly three.

Her breath caught.

Daniel stood beside her.

“That’s what you saw?”

Anna nodded.

“But how?”

The basket was nearly twenty years old.

Nobody had touched it since autumn.

Or so they thought.

Anna ran her fingers along the wood.

The black marks were not stains.

They looked burned into the basket.

She remembered her grandmother’s voice.

Never eat from a basket that carries the three marks.

At the time, Anna had thought it was an old woman’s superstition.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

That night, the family ate potatoes and salted meat instead of apples.

Before going to bed, Anna returned to the food room.

She wanted to move the basket outside.

But when she lifted it, she heard something inside the wall.

A faint scratching.

She froze.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Something was moving behind the wooden boards.

Anna stepped backward.

Then the scratching stopped.

She waited.

Nothing.

She reached for the lantern.

Suddenly, a small piece of wood fell from the wall.

Behind it was a narrow hollow space.

Anna leaned closer.

Inside was an old bundle wrapped in cloth.

She pulled it out.

Dust covered the fabric.

She opened it.

Inside was a notebook.

The cover was cracked.

On the first page was a name.

ELIZA MILLER.

Her grandmother.

Anna’s hands trembled.

She opened the next page.

The first sentence made her blood run cold.

If the apples turn black again, the winter has already begun.